Greil's Fall
by Cutsceneaddict
Summary: As he pursues the forbidden path after his father, Ike's mind is a whirlwind of conflict... and a sense of ominous doom fills the night air. A re-telling of the beginning of the classic Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance scene "Greil's Fall," with a focus on Ike's inner turmoil. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: This is a much older fic. I wrote it several years ago, so the quality is not quite up to par with some of my newer stuff. I tried to focus on bringing out the many emotions and thoughts that Ike likely had on that fateful night when he chose to pursue his father.**

**I truly appreciate any critiques/comments/compliments that you would like to voice about this story. Thank you for taking the time to read!**

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His heart struck against his chest like a blacksmith's hammer on an anvil. Any moment, it seemed that it would burst from its prison of bone and flesh, but he paid no heed to this. His mind was racing like a hunted animal, speeding from thought to thought almost as fast as the dark woods that shot past on either side. The night was warm and still, but his hands were cold-almost numb. The icy claw of fear had seized his heart in its merciless death grip.

It never occurred to him to ask himself why he had suddenly turned back. He had been ordered to return to the barracks. Continually, his father's words echoed through his mind, "We are done talking. Return to the fort immediately. That's a direct order!" He was used to hearing those words, spoken with the familiar tone of one who demanded respect and deserved it...

And yet this time, the tone was slightly altered. It held something that he had never heard before-wavering fear and alarm. Recalling the haunted look in his father's eyes only added to his constant momentum as his feet pounded, unyielding, on the ancient dirt path through the woods.

"Father... where are you? What's going on?"

The hollowness in his words frightened him. The moment felt so unreal, so dreamlike, that he wasn't even sure that it was _his_ voice that had spoken. It all sounded so far away.

Roots, crisscrossing the path like thick, dark veins, tried to trip him up. The boughs of the surrounding forest formed a natural canopy overhead as streams of pure moonlight filtered down through the foliage. Every so often, he could catch a glimpse of the full moon, sailing along the waves of swirling grey clouds.

Even nature itself seemed against him.

The moon had looked so majestic and kind that night, with a gaze akin to an esteemed queen. Yet now, it glared condemningly down at him with the apathetic stare of a judge sending an innocent to his death...

_Death?_

Why had the thought of death suddenly entered his mind? He had been running like a fleeing criminal in the direction he had last seen his father take, but he had no idea why. It wasn't that something was after him, though he often took glances back over his caped shoulder to assure himself of this. Was he being watched? Often he felt as though the glares of a myriad of invisible foes were staring through him... but, no, it wasn't quite that either. Yet, now that the thought of death had entered his mind, the icy claw of fear tightened at his heart and he pushed his speed until he was sure one wrong step would send him sprawling with broken bones.

He had once heard it said that an experienced warrior could scent death on the wind, even before blood was shed. Not being superstitious, he had excused it as a fable, but he suddenly found it difficult to believe his convictions. An ominous breath of wind chilled the sweat streaking his face. His gut twisted violently as his gauntleted arm grappled madly for the trainee sword at his side.

As the blade left its sheath in a slither of cold steel, he thought he heard its echo come from somewhere up ahead. Before he had time to debate the noise, the sound rang out again and again until he realized that it was not the echo of his sword, or even the sound of another sword leaving its sheath, but rather the clash of two weapons in the thick of combat.

His teeth clenched like a steel trap, as he used the remainder of his strength to reach the edge of the forest. The sounds of blade clashing upon blade grew louder, until he drew so near that he could hear the unmistakable grunts and yells of his father.

Shooting out of the shadows at the forest's edge, he charged rashly into the clearing. The moon sailed out of sight behind the clouds, shrouding the scene in darkness. Two silhouettes and two glittering weapons-an unknown sword and his father's axe-were all he could make out. The steel sang out eerily as the blades slid upon each other expertly, scattering sparks like fireflies in the night.

It was like listening to a dirge of death.

Seeing his parent flung backwards and disarmed by the shadowy assailant, he ran forward to help, screaming, "Father!"

"Ike! Stay back!"

Obediently, he dug his heels in, coming to a halt less than half a bowshot from the scene of the battle. His heart longed to run onward, but his mind had been strongly disciplined. He was not to disobey his father, even if he didn't fully understand the reason for the command.

_What's going on? What's happening?_ He groaned in his mind.

The light of the moon's judicial eye parted its screen of clouds, cruelly illuminating the scene below.

Ike drew in his breath sharply as he looked... and saw.


End file.
